


first the worst

by angrylizardjacket (ephemeralstar)



Series: Romance Is Boring 'verse [5]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Chill Bros Hanging Out, Gen, Lesbian Character, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 21:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18019211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstar/pseuds/angrylizardjacket
Summary: Ben actually considers Astrid (Ash and Roger’s eldest daughter) to be a good friend, or maybe she’s just the only one still in town and he’s sick of moping around his flat; even so, the more he learns about her, the more he comes to realise that she could give a younger Roger a run for his money in terms of being a general menace. At least he knows where she got it from.





	first the worst

**Author's Note:**

> Not what I promised, I am really sorry, but when the writing demon grabs you by the eyeballs and won’t let go, you tend to listen. Anyways I love Astrid so much and I love the extended AYDTD universe, okay? Also Astrid is super gay, and she and ben are v platonic bros.

“You’re bumming me out,” Astrid announces from where she’s got herself rolled beneath a car, and Ben, where he’s leaning against the hood of the car.

“What?” He seems a little spacey, like he’s been in his own head, his own world, and only at the sound of his voice is he pulled back into reality, frowning down at her legs sticking out from under the vehicle.

“You wrapped on filming what, two weeks ago?” Pulling herself out from under the car, Astrid tucks her flashlight into her pocket, dropping her spanner into the toolbox by the car, before leaning against the car door and looking up at him, “why are you moping in my garage, Ben?”

“I’ve got nothing to do,” he finally groans, sliding down the side of the car to sit next to her, and Astrid laughs, wiping her grease-stained hands on her jeans, turning to look at him, “and everyone’s gone back to like, the states, Gwil’s fucked off to Australia, and I’ve still got meetings in London over the next few weeks and-” with a loud groan, Ben leans his head back to rest against the car with a thump.

“Watch it.” Astrid warns, and Ben smiles a little at that.

“And we’re friends, ‘Trid, I’m sick of moping around my own flat and being bored out of my mind; everyone else seems to be working,” Ben groaned, eyes roaming over the rest of the garage, taking in the messy workbench, the pictures and little knickknacks tacked up everywhere, the neatly labeled tool drawers, half of which were opened as if she’d been rifling through them not long ago.

“Do you assume this is just my hobby?” She asks wryly, and Ben half grins at her.

“No, but you’re not going to kick me out,” and while his assumption is correct, Astrid can’t help but rolled her eyes at him.

“Fine, if you’re going to stay here, you’re coming with me to Cate’s gig tonight, I promised her I’d be there, I bet she’d love to see you,” Astrid’s smile softens into something genuine as Ben smirks.

“I bet she’d love to see Joe more.” 

“Oh  _absolutely_ , she thinks Claud’s got the crush; Cate’s got absolutely no self awareness, it’s hilarious.” Astrid’s grin turns sharp again, and she lets out a low, amused chuckle, as she leans her head back against the car door, softer than Ben, who’s now watching her with raised eyebrows, “she overheard me giving Joe her Instagram at the wrap party and she looked ready to tackle me, I swear she turns back into a teenager around him.”

“But you  _did_ give it to him to fuck with her, didn’t you?” Ben asked, and Astrid snorted.

“Yeah, of course, she’ll never make a move.” 

“They’re pretty hopeless.”

* * *

Ben’s only ever seen Astrid in either covered in grease in an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt while she’s working, or in the same thing, sans grease, whilst visiting set. He’s seen her in makeup  _maybe_ once, but the wrap party is sort of a blur. 

When she steps out of her room, hair still damp from her shower, wearing a silk button down tucked into the most well-fitted pair of jeans he’s ever seen, Ben wonders for a moment if this is the same person.

“Who are you and what did you do with Astrid?” Is what he actually says, and she flips him off, heading back into her room. “’Trid, no, come on I didn’t mean it!” He’s half laughing, and she comes back, leaning against the doorframe with an eyebrows raised expectantly, radiating a cool confidence, and Ben can’t help but smile at her. 

“This shirt, yay or nay?” She asks, and Ben hums for a long moment.

“Like yes, you look hot as hell, but what other options have you got to work with?” He asks, and Astrid grins, taking a moment to herself and shaking her head.

“If only I were into guys,” she mused, snickering at him, before she hummed thoughtfully at his question. Ben’s smile was fond, as she disappearing into her room for a moment, rifling through her closet until she reappeared wearing a different shirt, this time it was sheer with opaque, blue, silk detailing. 

“It isn’t exactly a bar shirt,” Astrid mused, while Ben took a long moment to look her over with a critical eye, analysing the outfit. “It’s a bit on the fancy side-”

“Is that Versace?” He asks, and Astrid grins, nodding. “So you’d let me go out in,” he plucks at the hem of his own shirt, “whatever this is, beside you in your goddamn silk Versace?” He splutters, getting to his feet, and Astrid’s smile widens.

“I mean, you’re welcome to borrow my other one,” she offered, and Ben, who hovered on the peripheries of fashion enough to appreciate a high end brand when he heard it or got to wear it, accepted without hesitation.

“Under all that car grease you’re secretly like, really well dressed,” he mused, tugging his shirt off over his head and tossing it onto her bed as she rifled through her closet. There was something almost comforting about how, when she turned back to him with shirt in hand, her gaze didn’t linger on his physique, not that she didn’t think he was objectively attractive, it was just sort of… nice, a change of pace to have a girl he was somewhat close to who was around his age and wasn’t interested in him like that in the slightest. 

“Secretly; yes. Objectively I know how style works, but living my life in jeans and t-shirts pisses off both mum and Barney and that makes it all worth it.” She sighs contentedly, moving past him towards her mirror and dresser where her makeup was scattered.

“Do you just spend your life, like, gently menacing your family?” Ben asks, standing behind her and buttoning up his shirt, taking in his own reflection in the mirror. Astrid seems to buy most of her fancier clothes a few sizes too big, and as such, the shirt fits Ben almost perfectly, in all it’s gold, black, and silk glory. 

“ _Gently_ menacing,” she concedes, smiling at him in the reflection where she’s halfway through her foundation, “and Barney’s fun to menace, he invited me to Paris Fashion Week last year and he almost screamed at me from the runway when he saw I was wearing one of dad’s old band shirts and a pair of jean shorts from the mall; best moment of the whole week.” Astrid just seemed  _delighted._

* * *

The moment Ben steps into the pub, he feels himself awash with an unreasonable sense of nostalgia; it’s so oddly reminiscent of the Smile scenes’ bar set from Bohemian Rhapsody that he almost does a double take. The band,  _Cate’s band_ , is a cover band it seems, when he hears ‘ _What’s My Scene’_ playing loud and bright from around the corner of the bar. 

He recognises Cate almost instantly, but is surprised to see her not behind the drums, but with a bass in hands, leaning into the microphone to also sing lead vocals.

“She got all the talent,” Astrid’s voice is loud enough to be heard over the vocals, but still low enough that only Ben hears, and her smile is fond as she watches her little sister jam out a pitch perfect cover of the bright, bopping song. They’re a cover band, Ben soon comes to realise, as they play song after song that he recognises ranging from the seventies to even some modern hit. The dance floor is full, and Astrid and Ben lean against the bar, both sipping beers as they bop along, along with a whole crowd of others too nervous for the dance floor, or keeping their drinks with them.

The set comes to an end, and Cate plugs her phone into the sound desk so the crowd wouldn’t be met with silence for the fifteen minutes break the band would take, and she makes a beeline for Ben and her sister, grinning and flushed with adrenaline from performing.

“Holy shit, Ben, what are you doing here?” Cate hugs him tightly after greeting her sister, and Astrid is already turning to the bartender and ordering Cate a drink.

“Astrid invited me.” He smiles brightly, a little uncomfortable as he can see two girls in his peripheries giggling and pointing towards them in a way that he was all too familiar with. Cate’s whole expression lit up, however, at his words.

“Oh, that’s so nice, dude you really didn’t have to come, but it’s so great to have you here,” and after working with Ash he knows where the family’s obsession with ‘ _dude’_ as a term of endearment comes from, but it’s still a little amusing.

“Happy to be here, was sick of moping about in my flat doing nothing,” he admitted, and Cate laughed at that, accepting her drink from Astrid, taking a long draft. Putting the drink back on the bar, she make light conversation as she pulls her mane of strawberry blonde hair into a messy ponytail with the hair tie from around her wrist with the same casually confident air that Astrid seemed to be glowing with. 

When the next set is about to start, and Cate has to go back to the stage, Ben announces that he’s going for a smoke, and Astrid offers to join him, and the two of them make their way to the courtyard, air cool when compared to the sort of musty, far more crowded bar and dancefloor.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Ben passes her his cigarette, and she takes a short draft, holding the smoke in her lungs as she passed it back and thought over his words.

“I don’t usually,” she said, voice thoughtful, “but there’s something about pubs, I don’t know how to describe it.” Ben’s humming, nodding as she explains, cigarette loose in his grip. “Barney quit when he was like, twenty one, but he only smoked menthols.” She mused, taking a sip of her drink, looking over towards the door back into the pub.

“Why are you out here, ‘Trid?” Ben asked, smoke spilling out with his words. Astrid turned sharply to him, frowning. “Look, I know you saw those girls by the bar; you don’t need to try and protect me, I’m pretty used to it-”

“It’s instinct.” Astrid cuts in, and Ben’s left in the lurch for a moment, trying to decipher what exactly she means.

“What?”

“I didn’t like how they were looking at you, sure, but if you left me in there alone I would have just confronted them,” she laughs a little humorlessly, “I’m too old for bar fights, but God knows that doesn’t stop me.” 

“Wait, you’ve been in a bar fight?” Ben asks with a laugh, and passes the cigarette to Astrid’s waiting fingers. In turn, she grins, nodding.

“About five years ago,” she says a little breathlessly as she tries to speak around the smoke, handing the cigarette back, “Cate played a gig in Glasgow and Barney and I made the trip to support her because it was her first gig in another country, so to speak,” she snickers, and leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes closed as she enjoys the muffled sound of the band starting up again, “and this dickhead was having a go at Barn, who’s just like nineteen at this point, and so of course I decked the fucker, but he turns out to be a local and it turns into a  _whole thing;_ long story short, Barney and I aren’t welcome there anymore and Cate didn’t talk to either of us for like three months,” she paused, considering, “well, she blamed me, and the asshole who was having a go at Barney; mum thought it was fucking hilarious.” 

It’s times like this that every over the top story about Ash and Roger that Ben knows all seem to blow through his mind at once, and Astrid makes total and complete sense in the context of her upbringing. It takes a few moments more for him to process what she’d said, and the mental image of Astrid, who took after Ash in terms of height, defending the towering giant of Barney, is a picture he never hopes to forget.

“Was that your first bar fight?” He asks, stubbing out the cigarette, and Astrid muses, wrinkling up her nose as she thinks, and it’s an expression Ben recognises with startling clarity from where he’s seen hundreds of pictures of Roger making that same face; at times she’s the spitting image of him without even meaning to.

“Not even close,” she half laughs after a beat.

“Wait a second, back up a bit,” Ben leaned back in his bar stool, grinning and looking up at the stars, expression a little more fond than he intended, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face, “so you would fight those girls in there if they were being dicks to me?” 

“‘course.” Astrid doesn’t even hesitate, and Ben’s smile grows wider. “But they’re in heels, wouldn’t be much of a fight.” She muses, and he laughs into the cool night air.

“You’re secretly  _nice_ -”

“ _Not even secretly_ , Ben,” she snorts, laughter loud and bright, as she bumps her shoulder with his, and he feels a rush of affection towards her, “I’m just constantly ready to fight, ‘specially for my mates, have you met me?”


End file.
